Long Time Coming
by Jack Longstreet
Summary: Four hundred years is a long time to wait for a wizard, or a man for that matter. The wicked sisters of Oz have been waiting with growing frustration for the return of the wizard who can break their spells of chastity. But will he ever come? Will they? And what of the man who has fallen from the skies, might he serve some useful purpose in these desperate times?


**LONG TIME COMING**

 **CHAPTER ONE CULANE**

I sat in the dusty library of Rory O'More's ruined castle, Nevermoor, with books strewn about the desks and several large candles burning. Soft summer air wafted through the large open windows of the tower.

"Who are you?" she asked softly.

I had been aware of her presence for some time, had heard her quiet footfall on the stairs, and suspected that she was standing in the deep shadow of the doorway watching me. I calmly turned towards her and smiled. "I am Culane of Tara. Who are you?"

"I am Theodora, daughter of Theodosius, Witch of the East. This is my castle." Her voice vibrated with excitement and fear.

I stood up smoothly, not wanting to spook her, and sketched a bow. "At your service ma'am."

She took a couple of steps into the room, into the center of the candlelight, but I still couldn't see her face, lost as it was in the shadow of her very widely brimmed hat. "Are you a wizard?" she asked breathlessly.

"No ma'am, just a soldier of fortune, although I do have considerable training in the Alchemist's arts."

"Oh," she said, quite disappointed. "Then what are you?"

"I'm a man," I said smiling again.

"All of mankind is dead," she replied flatly.

"In Oz," I replied. "Killed off by the Magi, I gather from reading poor Rory's journal. Should I be afraid?"

"Where did you come from? Are there more of you?" It was she who sounded afraid, a little guilty perhaps over the ancient genocide.

"No, I am quite alone and I mean you no harm Theodora, Witch of the East. Please come in and sit down. It is a soft night and we have much to discuss."

After only a moment's hesitation she came and sat across the table from me. She smelled delightfully of blooming night flowers. "I am from Eire, an Island like Oz, but very, very far away," I explained congenially. "My airship drifted, and after many days of high winds came down in the courtyard of this castle.'

"You can make a ship fly through the air?"

"In most weather," I replied wryly.

"You speak my language."

"It is a form of Meridian which I know well; a soldier of fortune must travel, so it helps to be good at languages."

"What is this alchemy that you spoke of?" her voice was soft and gently accented.

"Ah, you don't know of it here? It is the mastery of the elements, formulas, potions, that sort of thing."

"So you are _**like**_ a wizard," she said thoughtfully.

"Would you kindly take your hat off so I can see who I am looking at," I asked gently instead of a reply.

"You're very forward, sir. A Witch of Oz does not take orders from anyone, least of all strange, untidy men who fall from the sky," she replied, not loudly, but firmly.

"I beg your pardon madam, the fall must have rattled my untidy head. I only wished to see if your face could match the loveliness of your voice," I replied smoothly. "Let me at least bring the light closer so that we may see each other better, it will be more….. polite that way."

"That will be permitted," she replied with a bit of a haughty huff that she didn't quite pull off. She was excited and interested, there was no question of that, and she was not completely comfortable with regal behavior.

I moved one of the large candles so that it was almost between us, "Ah," I said, putting a bit of awed appreciation into my slow cadence, even though in the flickering light I could hardly see her any better than before; "One of the beautiful witches."

She lowered her eyes; "All witches are beautiful, and I am the least of my sisters."

"I don't believe that," I exclaimed. "No one could be more beautiful than you."

It was too shadowy to see if she blushed, but I heard a soft sigh escape her lips. She was about to speak, when a ferocious roar from outside the window interrupted her. She jumped up and retreated to the doorway, "Come quickly!" she hissed.

I followed, but then held her at the door, standing between her and the window where the terrible howling was now accompanied by the sound of claws scraping on stone, and the flapping of large leathery wings **. "** What is it?" I asked.

"Barga, a flying baboon."

"Nice."

It filled the large window arch, howling, red eyes glowing in the dark, powerful jaws slobbering over huge, sharp yellow teeth. "Is it wild, or some kind of war animal like an attack dog?"

"It can be either," she replied, "this one has no uniform or collar, so it must be wild. Watch out, it's going to attack!"

Indeed it had begun to charge; "I can handle it," I said as I drew the long barreled pistol from the holster on my leg.

"They are very strong," she warned anxiously pressing tightly against my back.

"Then I'll give him both barrels," I replied with studied casualness, and did so, right between the eyes. It fell to the ground in a skidding rush and came to rest almost at our feet. I broke open my pistol letting the empty shell casing fly, and swiftly reloaded as I stepped forward through the gun smoke to stand over its stinking, twitching body.

"Is it dead?" she asked. She had followed me, keeping a hold on my left arm, I could feel her hot breath on my neck. She jumped when I emptied both barrels into its skull for good measure.

"Now, yes," I replied shifting my foot a little to avoid the spreading pool of blood.

"Come," she said tugging at me; "let's get away from this place."


End file.
